


For A Limited Time Only

by alizarin_nyc



Category: SPN
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, M/M, Winsisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-25
Updated: 2007-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizarin_nyc/pseuds/alizarin_nyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Just go ahead and call me Samantha,” Sam said grimly.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	For A Limited Time Only

“Oh my God, look at me,” Sam said.

“I can see, I can see. Wait, don’t you fucking _look_ at me!”

“Okay, shut up, I’m not looking. But you… you’re…”

“I know,” Dean said. “I’m a fucking girl.”

Dean hated witches. Hate them a whole lot. This one was no exception. She’d put a spell on them, one that she claimed would teach them how to “see the other side.” They’d intended to use it to spot a particularly malignant spirit, but they’d failed to take into account that this witch was a real piece of work. Her version of “seeing the other side” was not at all their version of same.

“Fuck,” Dean said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad, Sam, this is really, really bad.”

“Just go ahead and call me Samantha,” Sam said grimly. He popped open his laptop with clumsy, delicate hands. “I’m going to look up this spell.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’m going to go out and find this bitch and make her change me back.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Well then I’ll just kill her,” Dean said. “Yeah, I’ll just…”

“Well here’s the good news,” Sam interrupted him. “The spell is considered very effective, but lasts only 24 hours.”

“What, you just went to witchyspells.com? That’s too long. There’s no way in a month of frozen over hells that I am going to be a chick for 24 hours.”

“We just have to wait it out. There’s no counter-spell. Hey, why are your boobs bigger than mine?”

“Shut up, how can you even think of… hey, you know, you’re right! Mine are so totally bigger than yours,” Dean stopped pacing up and down the motel room and looked down, cautiously cupping first one, then the other breast, in each hand.

“I’m only, like, a B-cup,” Sam whined. “And I can’t even believe I just said that.”

“I’m swimming in this shirt, but _ouch_ , how can these jeans be tight in the crotch?” Dean started fussing with his jeans.

“You have hips, dude. Thighs, the whole nine. That’s it, we need new clothes if we’re going to keep working.”

“Oh no you don’t. We’re staying put until this thing passes.”

“Yeah? You and me and two female bodies in this motel room for a full 24 hours?” Sam stood up, still taller than Dean.

“Good point. I hate you when you’re a dude, imagine how annoying you’ll be as a chick.”

“Very funny. Listen, it’s only 24 hours, we should make the most of it.”

Sam kept looking at Dean, and Dean noticed, probably for the first time, how deeply liquid brown his eyes were. He had to admit that he loved the way Sam looked at him, with caring and with real, heartfelt emotion. _Jesus_ , he was so screwed if he was going to have to endure these kinds of thoughts for a full 24 hours. Chicks were so _lame_.

Sam licked his now-delicate lips and quickly looked at Dean’s chest, then up and away. “We should, you know, do chick things.”

“What, like…” Dean let his thoughts trail off. Sam couldn’t be suggesting… that they… well hell, he was still a guy and Sam was a hot-looking girl right now. He felt his cock harden, only it wasn’t a cock, there was no erection, just a funny feeling _like_ an erection, a kind of buzzing _electricity_ somewhere down there. “You think we should…”

“Exactly,” Sam said, sounding incredibly smug and letting a flutter of girlish excitement flush his cheekbones. “We should go shopping.”

**

Dean got lost in the ecstasy of fabrics and styles and unlimited possibilities. He couldn’t help himself. Herself. Whatever. He suddenly _saw_ what got girls so excited about shopping. It was the chance to reinvent yourself, the chance to improve upon what was already there, and you could let your eyes roam over thousands of beautiful things that held all kinds of possibilities.

He was incredibly turned on.

And then he went into the shoe section.

“You definitely got the better legs,” he told Sam. The salesgirl gave him a look. “We’re sisters,” he explained. “He got mom’s legs, I got her boobs.”

“Shut up, _Dee,_ Sam gritted out as he swiveled his hips in front of the mirror. He wore a pencil skirt in a jacquard print -- and how did Dean even know what jacquard was? -- and was modeling a pair of stiletto heels in brown suede. Dean was still a guy, and he really, really, wanted to run his hand up the length of Sam’s leg, all the way up, letting the jacquard pattern bunch and slant in his hands, until he reached…

“Don’t you think these are hard to walk in?” Sam asked the salesgirl.

“I think they’re incredibly comfortable,” she said.

“You would think that, seeing as you’re selling them,” Dean muttered.

“They’re on sale,” she said. “For a limited time only, of course.”

“Okay, thanks, we’re moving on,” Sam said, disengaging his feet from the shoes and yanking “Dee” up by the arm. “Cosmetic counter awaits.”

“You’re turning me into a total slut,” Dean said, letting Sam pull him toward the lipstick.

Later that evening, they collapsed onto the bed back at the motel, finding themselves in a fit of giggles, letting several shopping bags slip from their fingers to the floor.

“Fake credit cards just bought us a whole lot of clothes and shoes and makeup we will never, ever wear again,” Sam said.

Dean laughed, his high-pitched voice echoing around the room with a pleasing sound. “But God, do I ever look good in a bustier.”

“Point taken, but we have got to make a nice donation to the Salvation Army tomorrow, and I have to say, I’ll be kind of sad about that.”

“You’re such a girl,” Dean said, punching Sam’s arm and continuing to laugh. “And that waiter at the restaurant where we had dinner totally wanted to fuck you.”

“He did not!”

“Did too. You would have let him, too, you slut.”

“Whore.”

“Hussy.”

Sam punched Dean and then they laughed some more over who had the girliest punch. Then they compared boob sizes again, this time, comparing by touch, and Dean let his hand stay cupped around Sam’s breast. His thumb brushed over the nipple deliberately and he watched for the hitch in Sam’s breath. “You’re such a little slut,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Dean,” Sam said, the big smile slipping off his face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Still a guy here, Sammy. And you’re pretty hot.”

“I’m your brother, dude, that’s…”

“Sister.”

“Whatever, that’s not something we should even think about, you know, even though I can’t stop staring at your boobs.” Sam stopped, confused. “It’s just so wrong.”

“You’re saying it’s wrong but your body’s saying it’s right.”

“Oh Christ, does that even _work_ on women?”

“Sounds pretty stupid, you’re right, but would you say I never get lucky?” Dean dropped his head and placed a small whispered kiss on Sam’s collarbone. “It’s just an experiment, Sammy. We’ve got a limited time with this; we should see what it’s like. We’re supposed to ‘see the other side’ and in order to fully appreciate it…” He kinked an eyebrow up at Sam, and was relieved to see that Sam’s beautiful brown eyes were heavy-lidded with lust.

“Just an experiment,” Sam repeated. “Limited time.” He leaned in and Dean leaned in at the same time, and they both just closed their eyes at the same time too, and Dean felt the tentative, delicate brush of female lips on his. There was that feeling of not-erection again, a hot rush to his groin, and wetness between his legs. Sam was feeling him up, not weighing Dean’s breasts against his own this time, but really exploring, letting his long fingers push and squeeze and Dean felt his nipple harden under Sam’s palm.

“This is so fucked,” Dean said. “Take off your shirt.”

Sam complied and Dean pulled his off too. He’d acquired a bra during the day because sagging, heavy breasts were _not_ part of the fun, and Sam reached around him and flicked the hooks open with a practiced twist. “Shit, Sammy, where’d you learn that?”

“Hello, hot girlfriend in college, you idiot,” Sam mumbled, his mouth latched on to Dean’s breast, tongue sliding around, leaving hot snail-trails everywhere. Dean enjoyed that for a while, then pushed Sam down on his back and finally, _finally_ got to unzip the pencil skirt and pull it down over Sam’s thin girl-hips, over his smooth thighs, and then he was staring at a pair of tighty-whities.

“Fuck. Dude you’re still wearing dude underwear, that is so not cool!” Dean rolled off momentarily, in order to strip off his cargo pants (he could have bought the pair from The Gap, but he got a pair in a cotton-silk blend for $200 from Anthropologie instead).

“Sorry, that lace stuff was itchy and a g-string is something I cannot even contemplate.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dean said, kneeling on the bed and turning to show off his profile, “’Cause I find them damn comfortable.”

And then Sam’s hands were on his ass, pulling him down, and this time the kiss wasn’t tentative and sweet, it was all tongue and teeth and Sam was pulling on his _hair._ Dean couldn’t breathe and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. What he did want to do was to taste Sam, and so he pulled off Sam’s briefs and placed a hand on each of his thighs, drawing them apart.

“Dean, you don’t have to…”

“Oh God, shut up, shut up, just…” And then he was down there, licking long stripes up Sam’s pussy, pushing his tongue up and inside, thinking how he was the one and only one who would ever get this, who would ever be inside Sam like this.

If he’d had his man-parts, it would have been over already. But there was just wetness and a sort of blue-balls feeling, concentrated in what he figured was his clit. If Sam were to do to him what he was doing to Sam, well, that would be just a little bit of heaven. He slipped off the g-string (and okay, he’d lied, it wasn’t comfortable at all, it was probably something you got used to, like high heels and bras and pantyhose and hot rollers and eyelash curlers).

“Can I… can I… turn around, and…”

“Hell yeah,” Sam said.

He moved around and slung his leg over Sam’s head, straddling it. Sam took over from there, grabbing Dean’s ass and pulling him straight down to his mouth. He was right, it was heaven. And Sam was even a little bit ahead of the game. He sunk his fingers deep into Dean and Dean reared up for a moment, gasping at the feeling. He didn’t have words to describe it – it was both familiar and strange. Sam was going to have the same experience, that of being the one and only to ever do _this_. And then the thought dissolved as he felt himself come.

Dean rode out the waves of orgasm, and that’s what they were, waves, one or two sparking stronger than the rest, and rippling out over his entire body. He thrust his fingers into Sam and fucked him, sucking on his clit at the same time, pulling out an orgasm and feeling the vibrations of Sam’s shout between his own thighs.

“It’s good to be a girl,” Sam said, once his face was free.

“It’s fucking great,” Dean said, looking at Sam in wonder. “And I feel awake and like, energized.”

“Yeah, me too. But like I just exercised and could nap for a thousand hours, too.”

“And yet I don’t want to talk about my feelings,” Dean lied.

“Me neither,” Sam said.

They napped for a few hours, then showered together, both agreeing that the experiment wasn’t quite over and they should really take advantage of it, you know, learn all the lessons that the witch had to teach.

Tumbling back into the bed before dawn, Dean found himself hard – no, aroused – again and he turned to Sam. “Last time, it’ll be the last.”

“Definitely. And we’ll be back to normal and then you know,” Sam looked up at him, a vague hint of trouble in his eyes, “Normal.”

“We’ll be so normal, Sammy, don’t worry. We’ll be the most normal pair of demon hunters with an arsenal in the trunk and a paranormal demon-magnet in the passenger seat that you’ve ever seen.” He placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face and kissed him deeply. “I promise.”

Sam unwound underneath him and Dean crawled on top of him gratefully. He kissed his way all over Sam’s body, loving the way Sam's long legs scissored and enveloped him, the way Sam’s stomach muscles curled up as he reached for Dean’s kisses, leaning into Dean’s hands on his face.

By the time Dean pressed himself up against Sam’s wetness, grinding down and shuddering with pleasure, the sun was high in the sky. He didn’t really care, because he was lost, completely lost in Sam’s arms, and he wanted to make it last, to draw out everything he could from Sam’s body. He pulled back and slipped one finger down to circle around, teasing Sam, his other hand making a similar assault on one of Sam’s nipples.

The sun warmed the bed and Dean felt a hitch in his own breath, a rough brush against his cheek. He dove in again to kiss Sam’s mouth. Sam’s lips were full and swollen and he bit them, willing it all to last longer, biting hard enough to draw blood. Sam didn’t bleed, but his body bucked under Dean’s, stronger this time.

Dean felt something bump his clit and he gasped and opened his eyes. Sam was still there, his lips still red and swollen, his eyes still beautiful and yet it was all changing. Dean was losing it, losing Sam.

He felt the catch and grip of their leg hair as he moved between Sam’s legs and the next time he ground down against Sam, his erection got in the way. He made a quick adjustment (and a quick decision) and lined up his cock next to Sam’s. Sam was still making small circles over his breasts -- his chest – Sam’s larger thumbs now rubbing over smaller nipples. He kissed Sam as hard as he could, letting their beards scrape, feeling desperation building along with everything else.

They rocked against each other until they came, Dean crying out and Sam silent.

“Well,” Dean said, to break the silence after a good ten minutes, “That was different.”

Sam had pulled the sheets over himself pretty quickly, and now was mopping up the mess with them. “That was definitely not normal.”

“That was um, a quick 24 hours.”

“It did go by pretty fast,” Sam admitted. “I’ll shower first, we should get on the road.”

“Absolutely,” Dean said.

Once the door was shut and the shower was on, Dean scrambled off the bed and paced the length of the tiny room, cursing a blue streak. When he was done, he arranged his face in what he hoped was “normal,” and refolded all the women’s clothing, placing it neatly in the shopping bags and setting them by the door.

He balled up the g-string and put it at the very bottom of his bag. There was no way to know if they’d run into a witch like that again, after all, and if they did, Dean wouldn’t waste any time shopping for lingerie. At least, he thought he wouldn’t.

And there was no way to know if normal would last or if it was only for a limited amount of time.


End file.
